A Long Time Comin'
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: 2005. Ryan and Claire wake up together for the first time."I'm really glad we don't have to pretend to have that whole 'This is awkward' morning-after routine."


**Universe:** Pre-_The Following, _2005

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing: **Claire Matthews/Ryan Hardy

**Summary: **2005. Ryan and Claire wake up together for the first time."I'm really glad we don't have to pretend to have that whole 'This is awkward' morning-after routine."

**Author's Note: **Guys, remember when I _didn't_ blow holes in my own ship? Heh, me neither. Here's a refresher.

. . .

She could hear him moving among the sheets beside her for before she ever heard him speak. She had been awake for some time, but she'd kept her eyes closed and her body still—she'd been hoping to will herself back to sleep so last night would last just a little longer. His voice was low and soft—he still sounded weighed down with sleep—when he asked quietly, "You awake?"

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter at the sound of his voice, so close to her, and reveled—for just a moment—in the fact that this was all real, and was really happening to her. She wasn't making up this moment now, and if she wasn't making this up, then she couldn't have made up last night, either. "I'm awake," she confirmed quietly, though, truthfully, she felt a lot more like she was dreaming. She'd dreamed of this moment—and of last night—too many times to count. Now that it was really happening, she wasn't quite sure what to do. Her fantasies had never extended to this point.

"And…" She listened to his voice grow a little louder as he shifted closer to her. She waited for the moment when he would come close enough so that their skin could touch, but it never happened. Even when he reached an arm over her side to support himself, it didn't even graze the sheet that covered her. She stared at his hand as it lay flat against the mattress beside her, thinking off all the places on her body where it could fit much better than flat against the sheets. "And how are you feeling?" he finally asked.

Some part of her recognized that his voice was quiet and hesitant because he was nervous of how she would feel after last night, but she didn't think of that as she listened to him speak. She was too busy trying not to come off as too eager, but even that she failed at. "I'm feeling great," she answered at once, the words practically bursting out of her. She knew she should probably be embarrassed, but even that courtesy she couldn't manage. If he hadn't figured out, last night, how she felt about him and just how long she'd been waiting to be able to tell him, then it stood to reason he never would. She'd been practically wearing a sign that read, _I WANT YOU._

She had to bite down on her lower lip so she wouldn't grin at the thought, but even so, she still had problems containing her happiness. Sick of having him so close and yet not being able to feel his touch, she shifted her leg back to tangle it with his. She breathed in deep through her nose—smelling the scent of her and him and the bed that was now, as of last night, theirs—and tilted her head back towards his. "I feel really, really good," she told him honestly, craning her neck to look him in the face for the first time that morning. It wasn't until she caught sight of the happy smile on his face, and her stomach relaxed, that she realized she'd been nervous to discover how he'd feel about what happened between them last night, too. But that smile had done it, had told her all she needed to know, and she thought—just for a second—that if she died here, after experiencing that with him, she'd die happy. It had been a very, very long time since she'd felt truly, completely happy like this did at this very moment.

The grin she'd been struggling to hide escaped from her when she watched him reach over and brush her messy hair aside so he could kiss the exposed flesh of her neck lightly.

"I feel good, too," he murmured as he pressed kisses to her skin, moving the arm that had been draped over her stomach up to fall over her breasts and draw her body back against his. She knew he was trying to reach under her side to bring them closer, but all he ended up with was a handful of her breast instead—not that she was complaining. Her nipples had pebbled into hard buds the second his fingertips has so much as grazed them, and though she knew he could feel the change in her body, she felt pleased at the thought instead of embarrassed. She even felt a little proud, too. She liked the way her body responded so readily to his and—she remembered this quite clearly from the night before—how readily his responded to hers. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been terrified, last night when they'd started, that they wouldn't be as compatible as lovers as they were friends. What if they'd thrown away that invaluable friendship for _nothing_?

"Last night was _that_ good, huh?" she smiled, allowing herself to be pulled back against him with pleasure. He was so warm against her, and after sleeping alone for so long, she couldn't get enough of feeling another person beside her in bed. She'd fallen asleep while laying against him last night, and it had been one of the nicest sleeps she'd had in years. She found when she woke that she didn't ever want to leave this bed, or his arms. When he lifted his head from her neck so their lips could meet, she kissed him happily, opening her mouth to welcome his and losing herself in the feel of him as she reached a hand back to cup his neck to keep him close. The last thing she wanted was him going somewhere without her.

"I'm really glad," she said between kisses, feeling her body heat up all over again, "that we don't have to pretend to have the whole 'This is awkward' morning-after routine."

She could feel him smirking against her lips before he pulled back. He held her cheek while he did so, looking her straight in the eyes as he told her, "You know it's been a long time since I've felt awkward around you, Claire."

Claire smiled to herself, lowering her eyes and hiding her head in the crook of his neck so he couldn't see how funny that statement sounded to her. She had thought him plenty awkward last night, but she didn't want to say it in case he took it as insult. She didn't mean it like that, after all. She had thought his hesitance with her had been sweet, in its own way. She had never expected him to be the type of man to be so worried about something so simple as sex, and it had been nice to see such a side of him come out last night. She smiled, remembering when he'd stopped them both to make sure that sex had really been what she'd wanted to do. _"I don't ever want to make you do something that you don't want to do, Claire."_ Even thinking of that moment made her heart twist a little bit now; he had been so sweet and kind and concerned. She didn't know what in the world she'd done to deserve him, but she was happy to take advantage of his current interest in her. Maybe by the time he came to his senses, he'd still want her enough to stay.

Claire recalled how quickly things had escalated between them last night, and she could feel her cheeks heating. She wasn't embarrassed—not with just him here—but she was already trying to edit the story in case she had to explain it to others. _Our first kiss was prompted by my divorce papers, and quickly followed by him and I doing it on my kitchen floor _did not sound terribly romantic by anyone's standards.

But, oddly enough, last night had been, in its own way, rather romantic. That had been one of the most surprising aspects of their night together for her; how he had acted with her last night had been so unlike anything else she'd ever experienced with him. He had let himself go more than she'd ever seen—not only while they were having sex, but before and afterwards. He had shown her with the simplest words, or softest touches, just how much he cared about her, and it had completely floored her. He had always been so nice to her—more nice than he was to anyone else—but the way he had treated her last night had been a step up from all that. Every time he had looked at her and touched her and kissed her, he was ever so tender, and receiving such attentive, gentle treatment from him had made her body shake and melt and it had endeared her only that much more to him. She had felt not only wanted in his arms, but safe and cared for, too. It quickly became a place she never wanted to leave—and one she wished she'd be capable of finding years earlier.

"Do you mind if I stay the day?" he murmured, interrupting her thoughts as he propped himself up a bit more in bed. "Or at least for a couple hours before heading back?" he added quickly, as if scared of imposing.

She smiled, a little nervous now as she straightened up as well, and turned to look him in the eye again. It wasn't uncommon for him to stay at her place for a day—or a night—before heading all the way back to New York, but now things were different between them. _Staying over _no longer meant separate beds in separate rooms. It no longer meant her having to make up the guest room and the two of them saying goodnight at nine PM after a couple hours of meaningless small talk.

Hoping they were still on the same page where last night was concerned, she confessed, "I was actually kind of hoping you'd want to stay the weekend, so that way we could have more time together. Just you and me."

There was a beat of silence before he spoke, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was getting ready to say no while he paused. She hadn't come right out and said they were a couple now, but she hadn't been exactly subtle about her hopes, either. But, as he always had been able to do, he calmed her nerves with just a few words: "I like the sound of more time together."

His quiet, measured response made her smile, instantly relieved, but still she couldn't let go of the doubts that nagged at her. She didn't want to make him stay if he had other things to do. "You sure?" she pressed. She knew it was a lot to ask; if he had requested the same of her, she would've said no. She wouldn't have _wanted _to say no, of course, but she would've had to. She couldn't just leave her home for days at a time at the drop of a hat. "Because if you need to head home tonight—"

"Claire," he interrupted patiently, eyeing her as he frequently did with that _Take-it-easy-please _look in his eyes, "the weekend sounds perfect. If I could stay in this bed with you for the next year and never go back to New York, trust me, I would."

His words were silly, but he said them so seriously, she couldn't help but smile. She knew it took a lot for him to leave the city. "That might be a little unsanitary," was all she could think of to say. She had no other objections.

"No problem," he replied, a smirk pulling up one side of his mouth, "then we can just do it in the kitchen again. Completely sanitary."

Claire was so shocked at the unabashed way he spoke that she just stared at him in utter silence for a second, her mouth agape. He smiled still, but when a half a minute passed and still she hadn't laughed it off, he reached over and cupped her shoulder, rubbing her upper arm lightly.

"You know I have no problem at all with what happened between us last night, don't you?" He spoke quietly, and never took his eyes off of hers.

Somehow, she found a way to close her mouth and nod. "I know," she answered softly after a second. "I know," she whispered again, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "Sorry, you just caught me off guard."

"If we could do it all over again, I'd do it just the same."

She almost said, _You don't mean that, _but she could see the honesty in his eyes and hear the graveness in his voice and she knew he meant it. He wasn't lying and he wasn't trying to make her feel better. He was just telling the truth.

"Thank you," she whispered, meaning the words with her entire being. She had been scared that she might've come off as too desperate to him last night, and what if that pushed him off? She closed her eyes, letting the gratitude she felt wash through her and out over to him. "Thank you, Ryan."

He rubbed her arm again, and she could hear him move before she felt him again. When he pressed his lips to hers, it was briefer than before, but no less pleasant. When she opened her eyes after it ended, his face was still hovering before hers.

His hand rose to cup her cheek as he asked, concern brightening his blue eyes, "Is there anything you'd change?"

Claire had been about to say no when she remembered what had instigated everything last night. More than a little ashamed, she let her eyes fall from his. "Well, now that you're asking, and we're being honest with one another—" She paused, waiting for him to contradict that, but he only nodded seriously in confirmation of her words "—I… I have to say I feel a little guilty for trying to get you drunk first. I didn't mean to… you know," she muttered, tipping her chin between them. "I didn't mean to do it like that."

He smiled, catching her drift. "I didn't see it that way, you know. And you don't need to get me drunk to seduce me," he added, nudging her with his shoulder. His eyes roamed over her downturned face at her for a second before he admitted quietly, "You hardly have to do anything, actually." The fond look in his eyes she was met with when she looked up turned part of her stomach to molten lava, and without a second thought, she leaned over and kissed him.

This kiss was not brief or chaste like the last, but long and deep—it consumed every other thought and feeling so that all she was left with was the feel of him around her and the need to feel _more._ His tongue was not enough; his hands were not enough; her body ached for him with a longing so fierce she thought she really might die here, with him, if she didn't satiate it.

She had just been moving her body to crouch atop his when the shrill beeping of her alarm clock made her jump in his arms, and drew her back to her senses. Waking up here, naked in her bed with him, had been so unfamiliar and wonderful that she'd forgotten about every other aspect of her life. All she had bothered to think of when she'd awoken was her memories of last night; all she'd talked about was him and her and them—but there was someone else here; her baby son that she hadn't even thought to check in on was sleeping just a few doors down—

But there were Ryan's lips on her neck again, and his large, warm hands roaming all over her body… She wanted to do nothing else than lie in this bed with him for an entire year, just like he'd joked about, but she knew that wasn't an option. Her son had to be woken up, and fed, and set up for the day. She couldn't lie in this bed forever, no matter how good his hands felt against her naked skin, or how much his kisses filled her head with juvenile thoughts no grown woman with a child should bother to entertain.

"I have to go," she whispered, pulling herself away from him with great difficulty. "I… I have to get Joey up." Her eyes pled with him to understand as she moved far enough away that they faced each other. "I'm sorry," she whispered, cupping his cheeks and bending over to kiss him quickly in apology. "I'm sorry; I have to."

"It's okay," Ryan assured her, straightening up again and gesturing for her to go. "Do what you need to do."

"I want to stay," she whispered, wanting him to know that—and believe it—even as she got up and walked over to the dresser. She pulled on a tank top and a pair of pajama shorts quickly, frowning sadly all the while. "You know I want to stay." She turned to the mirror to check herself over, and brush her hair over some questionable spots on her neck, before heading to the door.

"You don't need to say that." Ryan spoke so quietly, almost like he didn't want to be heard, but she heard him and his words made her steps falter. She listened, hesitating by the door with her back to him, nervous to hear where he was going with this. "I know you want to be here with me, but he's your son. He comes first, before everything and everyone else. I know that, Claire, and it isn't a problem. There's no argument here, trust me."

Claire shut her eyes, reaching a hand out to steady herself on the doorframe. It took her a few seconds to take in everything he'd said and process it. For the hundredth time, she wondered what in the world she'd done to deserve him—both as a friend and whatever he was now. What good had she ever done?

"Thank you," she whispered, once again hating how meaningless those two words sounded. Silently, she promised him that, before he went home again, she'd find a way to tell him how much this meant to her—all of this—and all of him. "I'll be right back," she whispered before escaping out the door.

. . .

Joey acted as unhappy to get up that morning as he did any other morning, but Claire was relieved to hear that it had nothing to do with sleep deprivation. Again, just like she hadn't this morning, she hadn't thought of him last night. In an attempt to redeem herself, and be the good mother she liked to think she was, she helped him dress in whatever clothes he wanted, and waited outside the door as he went to the bathroom. She left him for a couple minutes with some toys in his room while she went to change.

When she returned to her room, Ryan was up and out of bed and almost fully dressed. He was buttoning up the shirt she remembered, with some embarrassment now, trying to rip off the night before. Buttons could become incredibly frustrating when one was so filled with anticipation that her hands were too clumsy to deal with them; luckily, he'd been able to take it off before she'd really done any damage.

"Joey's just getting up," she informed him, pulling open the top drawer of her dresser so she could put on a bra and underwear. Through the mirror propped atop the dresser, she could see him nod along behind her. "He said he slept well," she added, watching for his reaction.

He met her eyes almost immediately. "He did?" A smile was pulling at the edges of his lips. "That's surprising. I was worried you might've woken him."

Claire pursed her lips and made a face at him in the mirror as she pulled on a pair of jeans. She shook her head as she looked down to zip them up. "If you recall, _I _was the one to tell _you _to be quiet."

Ryan scoffed. "Oh, come on. You really think I'd _want _you to be quiet? Why would I ever tell you to be quiet?"

"If you don't want us to be caught by my three-year-old son, then, yes, I _would _think you'd want me to be quiet."

"No, no, no…" He began walking up behind her as he spoke, and she tracked his movements in the mirror as she pulled a shirt over her head. Just as she'd adjusted it into place, he wrapped his arms around her middle and hugged her from behind. Almost on instinct, she let her eyes fall closed and allowed her body to sink back against his. Nothing and no one felt as good surrounding her as he did.

When he bent down to press his lips upon a particular spot on her neck, just behind her ear, she couldn't hold back a soft moan that escaped from between her parted lips. He'd discovered many sensitive parts of her body the night before, but judging by the red-purple color her skin had taken on on that particular spot, she'd guessed it was very possibly one of his favorites. She didn't mind; it was one of hers, too.

"I like the sounds you make." She felt his lips curve into a smile as he whispered the words in her ear, making her shiver, before pressing one last soft kiss against her neck. "Even the loud ones," he added.

She let the teasing go, no longer interested in dishing back to him. He had made his fair share of noise, too, but there would hopefully be other occasions to throw that in his face. She remembered the silent promise she'd made just a quarter of an hour ago, and she wanted to fulfill it now. She turned herself around in his arms, and held him close by the shoulders, the neck, the sides of his face. Her hands were delicate when they touched him, for she was very aware now, of what she had. She was even more aware of how quickly it could disappear. She wanted to be able to say something that would ensure he'd stay, no matter what.

"What you said about Joey before," she began quietly, her eyes glued to his as her fingertips brushed themselves against his cheeks, "I hope you know what that meant to me. To hear you say that…" She struggled to find the right words. "Ryan, to know that you understand what he is to me, to hear you say what you did… That was th—the best thing you could've ever said to me. Thank you. Really."

"It was just the truth," Ryan replied, dismissing it as he usually did when she tried to pay him a compliment. "He's your son. I've always known how important he is to you, and that he's your biggest responsibility. I know that he comes first; comes before everyone else."

"But just hearing you _say that…_" Claire trailed off. She didn't know how to explain what that had felt like, to hear him acknowledge for himself that he understood both his and Joey's places in her life without having to be told. If he hadn't already been her best friend, her closest confidante, that alone would have made him such. She rarely came across people who thought of Joey first as _her_ son, nor did anyone ever really understand the binding duty she felt she had to raise him as best she possibly could. She had no other option than that, and to be with someone who understood that just by instinct… "It just meant a lot," she finally finished, knowing her words would never be enough to explain. "It meant a lot that you understand. Most men don't want to have girlfriends who have children, let alone be willing to sacrifice their time together to put up with her kids, and the fact that you're open to both means the world to me."

"Well, you only have one kid," Ryan pointed out. He paused a moment, eyeing her for a second before wondering curisouly, "Girlfriend?"

Claire blinked in shock, feeling her face heat up in embarrassment. She hadn't even realized what she'd said; she'd been so focused on making sure that he took away the bit about Joey, she'd barely focused on the rest. _Oh, god… _They'd only spent one night together and already she'd made the mistake of letting stupid words slip out of her mouth and now she'd probably ruined everything! "I—I didn't mean it like that," she explained quickly, suddenly wishing very much that they weren't standing so close to one another with their arms all entangled. It would make it that much harder when he pulled away. "I just meant—it was an example, you know, I didn't—"

"I know," he assured her, rubbing her arms calmingly. "And we don't need to call each other anything," he told her quietly, "but…" His eyes turned serious as they looked over at her. "I hope you know that I'm not with anyone but you, and that I don't want to be with anyone but you."

Claire felt her heart rising into her throat as she tried to speak. "I don't want to be with anyone but you, either," she managed to reply after a couple seconds.

He smiled carefully, as if waiting for her to take it back. She pulled him close in a hug to assure him that wasn't going to happen.

When they pulled apart, she took a step back to put distance between them, but held him close with her hands clutching his. "I'm going to take Joey downstairs in a minute…" She bit down on her bottom lip, forcing herself to banish her nerves before asking, "Do you want to come down and have breakfast with us?"

A smile turned up the usually weary and downturned corners of Ryan's mouth at once. "I'd love to."

. . .

**Author's Note:** I hope this made you smile. :) Reviews are most certainly welcome if you have a moment!


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